


More Things in Heaven and Earth

by Alaceron



Series: This Story Sounds Fishy [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mermaid, M/M, mermaid!Charles, settler!Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaceron/pseuds/Alaceron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik doesn't believe in mermaids. </p>
<p>And then he meets Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Things in Heaven and Earth

**Author's Note:**

> There was a prompt on the kinkmeme for some sort of Pirates of the Caribbean-esque mermaid fusion. I've lost it now, but it probably doesn't matter, since this is probably widly off-prompt. Although the mermaid mythology here is taken from that movie. And remains mostly true to it.
> 
> Written while on holiday in Malaysia at my auntie's house, with limited internet access and therefore, what is research? Post Office Cove is based on a cove we saw when touring Milford Sound (New Zealand, the most beautiful frigging place I have ever seen, HOW CAN IT BE SO BEAUTIFUL) that was used for much the same thing during ye olde settler days. 
> 
> I intended to write about PotC-style savage mermaids and some sort of plot about Shaw and mermaid's tears and adventure, but, as with all things I set out to write, this turned into a FARCE. So you get >2500 words of Charles and Erik meeting. *sob*

Like any recently-established, isolated pioneering community where the members of a sparse and overwhelmingly-male settler population (who can only be relied on to venture into the sleepy town centre when in need of supplies, besides) are insufficient to provide a satisfactory supply of gossip, the New Territories of Genosha have their share of fantastic tales and rumours to entertain their inhabitants.

Genosha’s particular brand of circulating tall tale mostly centres around the fjord situated a ways west of the main settlement, and its purported mythical inhabitants – mermaids.

Erik pays these stories no more heed than the collective delusions of lonely, homesick men in an unknown land, with precious little to do in the time not spent working themselves to exhaustion, deserve.

And then, naturally, he meets one.

 

 

 

From what Erik has not been able to avoid hearing, “real” mermaids are as beautiful as they are savage and they eat men for dinner. Well, that, or they’re man-starved in a different way, there being no mer _men_ , and therefore will, as a group ( _Flock?_ Erik wonders. _Herd? School?_ ), use any man captured as some sort of breeding stud until he dies of exhaustion. (From the way Cassidy is inclined to say, _Insatiable_ , while staring into the distance dreamily after every re-iteration, Erik has firm Opinions about that one.)

Any man stupid enough to want to attract a mermaid should, by popular account, float himself out on a boat into the middle of the fjord and _sing_.

(“Sing,” Erik says flatly when he unwillingly hears this for the first time. “Why.” 

“Some things don’t have a ‘Why’, Lensherr,” Allerdyce says airily. “Some things just _are_.”

Erik is at such a loss for words, he’s not sure he’ll ever speak again.)

There’s also something about how a mermaid’s kiss will allow a man to breathe underwater for an unspecified period of time, but Erik has always wondered how that one can have started up, being that by all other accounts, any man who manages to get close enough to a mermaid to be kissed invariably ends up too much dead to tell the tale. (Even McCoy’s stories about the Ancient Greek gods and their sexual escapades make more sense than this mermaid business. Well, Erik amends, after a brief reconsideration, almost.)

So when Erik slips and falls into the water, trying to retrieve the barrel of letters moored in Post Office Cove, it’s only understandable that the last thing he expects while flailing around in deep, dark waters is to be grabbed around the waist and hauled to a neighbouring rock ledge by a saviour who bobs up and down in the water beside him, looking on curiously while he coughs up half the fjord. A saviour who, in addition to possessing a lower half that is most certainly a fish tail, is also in possession of an upper half that is very, very male.

“But I wasn’t singing,” Erik gasps out, as his coughs begin to subside.

“What?” the mermaid – mer _man_ , Erik corrects himself – says, looking confused.

Even if he was wrong about everything else, Erik feels a vicious satisfaction in being right about _that_ , at least.

 

 

 

After it becomes clear to Erik that the merman isn’t going to do anything more than ride the gentle ebb and flow of the waves and watch him, he gives up on expecting to be ravaged (in either sense of the word) at any moment and pushes himself into a sitting position.

“I suppose I owe you thanks for saving my life,” he tells it.

“You’re very welcome, my friend,” it replies, smiling, and Erik notices that its lips are very, very red and its eyes are very, very blue.

“My name is Charles,” it (he?) adds.

 “Erik,” Erik says, at a loss for what else he should do.

“Pleased to meet you, Erik,” Charles tells him, smile widening, and Erik thinks he’s beginning to understand, a little, the desire to fall under a mermaid’s spell.

 

 

 

When Erik has draped his clothing over various rocks to dry and Charles shows no signs of leaving, Erik strikes up a conversation. It’s not as if he has anything else to do while waiting for his clothes to dry, after all.

“So where did you learn to speak English?” Erik asks.

“I didn’t,” Charles says.

Erik gives him a pointed look.

“No, honestly,” Charles says, smiling. “I didn’t. Mermaids have the ability to understand human speech. Well,” he corrects himself conscientiously, “it’s more the ability to understand the meaning behind the words; what you want to say, so to speak, rather than the ability to acquire the vocabulary and syntax themselves. And we can make ourselves understood to you, as well.”

“You’re serious.” Erik is distantly aware of his face rearranging itself into an expression of incredulity that could probably discredit the promises of an entire market’s worth of disreputable salesmen in and of itself.

“Well, I mean,” Charles adds hastily, “I say ‘human speech’, but obviously we haven’t encountered every human language in existence. However, as far as I know, there’s never been a problem.”

 “How is that possible?” Erik demands, even though today is clearly not his day for rational thinking.

Charles hums thoughtfully. “I believe the term your people have for it is ‘magic’?”

“Magic,” Erik says flatly.

“Which is to say, we don’t really understand it either,” Charles says, spreading his hands apologetically.

Erik stares at him incredulously.

Charles gives him a beatific smile in return.

 

 

 

“What were you trying to do before you almost drowned yourself?” Charles asks him.

“Ah,” Erik says. “Well, there’s a barrel full of letters attached to– “

“Letters?” Charles asks, head tilted curiously in a way that Erik most certainly isn’t beginning to find adorable.

So Erik explains.

 

 

 

“Your name,” Erik says.

“Charles,” Charles supplies promptly.

“Yes,” Erik says. “I didn’t mean I’d forgotten it.”

Charles beams.

Erik is slightly disconcerted by the brightness of Charles’ smile.

“So what you meant was?” Charles prompts.

“Right,” Erik says awkwardly, coming back to himself. “I suppose the conversion of names from whatever you naturally speak to commonly-used English names is another mermaid ability?” He tries to inject as much sarcasm into that line as he can. Unfortunately, this, as it turns out, after being blinded by Charles’ smile, isn’t all that much.

Charles laughs. “What? Of course not! There was a scientist who passed through here on some sort of expedition a few years ago; he gave me this name. He thought it suited me, and I found I rather liked it too.” He smiles in fond recollection.

Erik suddenly finds that he’s jealous of some man he’s never met because he named a creature Erik knows almost nothing about. G-d, he’s pathetic. Although he must admit, Charles’ name does well suit him.

“Magical name conversion,” Charles chuckles. “Don’t be ridiculous, Erik.”

_Right, of course_ , Erik thinks. _Ridiculous_.

 

 

 

“-And the barrel is tied to a rock on the edge of the cove with rope, so that when passing ships come in to re-stock their water supplies, they’ll find it and take it with them, to be mailed at the nearest major European port.”

“So _that’s_ what was happening,” Charles says, with the air of someone who has had a great mystery solved.

“What did you think it was for?” Erik asks.

“Well, we always thought that the barrel was some sort of supplicatory tribute you were making to passing ships, so that they’d continue on without invading you.”

“I,” Erik says, articulately.

“We had bets running about just what could be so light and yet so valuable inside those barrels,” Charles continues. “I wonder who’ll win the pool now? I don’t think anyone was even close.”

“So. Invasion. And tribute.” Erik is torn between affront, indignation, incredulity and hilarity.

“It’s not as if we had much to go on,” Charles explains. “And it’s better than our first theory. Before the first barrel they put out there was collected, when it just sat in the water for years on end and every so often there’d be a boat of people come to fill it, we thought it might be an offering you were making to your gods.”  

“And you didn’t think to open it up and take a look?” Erik manages, struggling to overcome the state of having more feelings than he knows what to do with.

“What?” Charles exclaims, affronted. “We couldn’t open it up without permission. That would be _rude_.”

“Of course,” Erik gasps out, finally succumbing to the utter _absurdity_ of the situation and melting into helpless laughter.

 

 

 

“So,” Erik says.

“Yes?” Charles prompts.

“Uh,” Erik dithers, trying to think of a way to phrase his question that isn’t, “So, I hear you eat men?”

Charles watches him, expectantly.

“You know,” Erik begins again. “There’s a rumour going around the settlement that mermaids eat men. First the singing, and now this, what will they think of next?” Erik laughs, perhaps a bit too loudly to really sound natural.

“Ah,” Charles says, looking slightly embarrassed. “That one’s true, actually.”

The ensuing silence is exceptionally awkward.

“It’s not that humans are all that we live on,” Charles explains hastily after an interminable minute. “It’s just that, well. It makes for a nice break from fish, is all.”

“You eat _humans_ and _fish_?” Erik blurts out before he can stop himself.

The silence that follows that is even worse.

 

 

 

“I wouldn’t, you know,” Charles says abruptly.

“You wouldn’t – ?” Perhaps if Erik keeps Charles talking, he won’t notice any hunger pangs that might develop. Or perhaps, Erik thinks bitingly ( _Oh G-d_.), he wouldn’t have to worry about being some bizarre, appetising Scheherazade if he _ran away from the man-eating creature_.

“I wouldn’t eat you.” Charles’ expression is almost painfully earnest. “I – you’re different. I wouldn’t want to eat you _ever_. I want to be your _friend_.”

Erik finds himself at a loss. Charles seems to take the silence as rejection, and his face falls a bit.

“But of course I understand if you would prefer to go,” he says quietly.

Erik, in agreement that that’s probably for the best, rises to his feet, ready to leave, but –

Charles just looks so _sad_.

Erik sighs. He must have fewer self-preservation instincts than even Cassidy. He sits back down.

“So what other human behaviours do you speculate about?”

 

 

 

“Wait,” Erik says. “You refer to yourself as a ‘mermaid’, but you’re –” He gestures to Charles’ bare chest,

“Ah,” Charles says. “I suppose technically, we’re a bit hermaphroditic, rather than purely either male or female.”

“Hermaphroditic,” Erik says, suddenly regretting everything.

“In possession of both male and female reproductive organs –”

“I know what it means,” Erik interrupts hastily, unsure as to whether he should feel grateful to Hank for that or not. “It’s just that you’re –” He gestures again to Charles’ very unambiguously male – and _not_ female – appearance.

“Oh!” Charles says in realisation. “Oh no, I didn’t mean in the sense of possessing both sets at the _same time_ ,” he explains, his tone implying that this is somehow much more reasonable, which, Erik would very much like him to know, it really isn’t. “What I meant was that we can change between the two.”

“Change,” Erik says. This hour is really not turning out to be his finest in terms of eloquence. Or of sentences consisting of more than one word.

“While not common, it’s not as unusual in the ocean as I’m guessing it is on land. There are various types of fish who do the same.”

“But,” Erik says, “ _how_?”

“Magic?” Charles offers, hopefully.

 

 

 

“So,” Erik says, collecting himself with what he considers to be great self-possession, “given that you’re all… _hermaphroditic_ , the stories about there only being mermaids and no mermen…?”

“Oh!” Charles exclaims, brightening, “That’s a bit easier to explain. The humans that mermaids – so to speak – encounter are overwhelmingly male, what with them being sailors and fishermen and –” Charles pauses, brow creasing slightly. “Is there a reason your women don’t seem to like the water? We’ve often wondered about that.”

Erik opens his mouth, although he’s again at a loss for what to say.

“Never mind,” Charles says, waving a hand dismissively, “You can explain later. As I was saying, being that it’s generally only men we encounter, if we want to procreate with them, we naturally need to be in female form.”

“Procreate,” Erik says a little despairingly, because who wouldn’t despair at a world where _that part_ is true as well?

_Well, actually_ , he thinks after a moment. _Cassidy probably wouldn’t. Cassidy would be_ overjoyed _._

“And, er,” Charles adds, looking away awkwardly. “It doesn’t hurt when we want to attract them for, er. Other purposes, either.”

Erik doesn’t know why he’s still sitting here conversing with someone who, despite assurances to the contrary, when hungry enough might still see him as a _tasty treat_. Who’s sharing tips on how to lure _tasty treats like him_ close enough to – to –

Maybe he’s gone mad, he suddenly thinks. Maybe this is all a delusion, and he’ll be found in a week or so, stark naked, hair and beard unkempt and making love to a tree.

But since he’s either become a lunatic or about to become fish food, he supposes he may as well –

“But,” Erik says, breaking the awkward silence, “that still doesn’t explain – ” He gestures to the marked lack of maidenly attributes on Charles’ torso.

“Oh!” Charles says. “I prefer it, I suppose. And I’m not looking to attract a man to mate o- or – ” he stutters awkwardly, “the- the other thing. It’s just that – well – ” Charles visibly stops himself and starts again. “Even if this form isn’t good for eating, or mating, or things like that, it’s…it’s the one that feels most like me,” he finishes softly, with a rueful smile.

Erik is aware that nobody asked him, but he doesn’t think Charles would have any trouble getting anyone to do anything for him, whatever form he chooses to take.

Not with a smile like that.

 

 

 

“ –I wanted to send a letter to an old friend, but I hadn’t finished writing it in time for it to go out with the last boat coming here to fill up the barrel. So I thought I’d take it out myself.”

“But you don’t have a boat,” Charles says.

“I don’t have a boat,” Erik agrees.

“So you decided to try your luck on foot,” Charles says.

“Yes, I did.”

“And then you slipped.”

“And then I slipped.”

“Because the ledge you were on is narrow, and slippery.”

“Quite.”

“And is not used to take mail to the barrel for that very reason.”

“….Yes.”

When Charles puts it like that, it does seem like a fairly stupid thing to have done.

“So why didn’t you just wait for the next time the boat went out, then?” Charles asks.

 “There were rumours that there was a ship due to pass by sometime soon. It could be years before the next one. I didn’t want my friend to have to wait that long. Although it does seem like a stupid reason to risk my neck, now,” Erik admits.

Charles’ smile seems to say that he doesn’t think it’s stupid at all. Erik feels his face heating, a little.

“Do you still have the letter?” Charles asks. “I could take it over and put it in for you, if you’d like. Or I could bring you the barrel instead, if you prefer.”

The letter, when retrieved from Erik’s now mostly-dry coat pocket, turns out to have not weathered its unexpected swim terribly well. The sheets of paper have fused together and the ink has run into illegibility.

Erik sighs. “There’s no point now, if he can’t read it. I’ll have to go home and rewrite it.”

“So you’ll be back then?”

Charles looks so very hopeful, that Erik is really left with no choice but to say,

“I suppose I will be, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> And I have some ideas about how Charles wants to see Erik's farm and the town and so he comes out of the water, and lo, LEGS, but he can't walk, so Erik makes him a wheelchair and pushes him around town, masquerading as his ~cousin~ from another Genosha settler-town come to stay after an accident. But then something or other happens and Shaw appears with his quest for the aqua vitae and kidnaps him a mermaid and Erik charges after him into the wilderness to save Charles.
> 
> And then they have lots of sex and babies who live in ~both worlds~ (but probably do not eat people).
> 
> But it took me >2500 words to get past their first meeting, so, like, will I ever get to that point? :(


End file.
